Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas (4 page)

These thoughts were making my head hurt. They were making me confused.

I had never been the romantic type. But I wasn’t completely against the idea. So was I repelling the men? Was I just being a prig when I met a new man and asked him about his favourite opera?

I didn’t have the answers. And the questions kept coming.

For the first time, I wondered, Who am I?

Aditi and I didn’t meet till two weeks later. Her job was such that if she got stuck in a shoot, she would have to finish the schedule before she could even breathe again. She had often told me that it was a thankless, harrowing job with little pay, but I knew she loved it because she was just that bit closer to the film stars, which was like a six-degree separation from fame itself. I had a feeling that Aditi wanted to be in front of the camera someday but she had never had the chance. So she wanted to be as close to it as possible.

We were at the See Vu bakery shop for a quick snack when Aditi started making a list. Her list of men that she thought I could go out with. Aditi was a few years older than me and so she thought she knew all about men. She had been giving me advice for the past eight years. But I had seen her have many heartbreaks as well. They would crush her spirit for a long time and maybe that was the reason for her promiscuity. So I had decided that I wouldn’t get involved with a man. I didn’t need the heartbreak, or the advice. Thinking these lofty, but foolish, thoughts I had reached the ripe old age of thirty and finally I was ready for both.

‘Darling,’ she started sincerely, ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been on a real date. I mean, I’ve been on hundreds and it’s really very simple.’ She seemed so proud of being wanton. Instead of berating her for lack of better judgment, I felt morose. I envied her sense of gay abandon.

Even though I had never been with a man, I realized that if I had, it would have been disastrous. With my confused, convent educated upbringing, I would feel Jesus Christ was glaring down at me every time I kissed a man. When my Hindu upbringing kicked in, I would be Sita who needed only to be with her Ram. And when I became an atheist, instead of the gods, I would feel the men were judging me.

‘That’s all very well for you. But honestly, going by my expectations, I think I’ll remain a virgin till I get married,’ I proclaimed, stuffing a lemon tart down my throat.

‘By the way,’ she said as an afterthought, completely ignoring my statement, ‘what were you doing when you were in all those countries? Reading books?’

‘I was too young … and I was with my parents!’ I swallowed and continued, ‘Besides, I had Dad’s escorts wherever I went, which kind of threatened the boys, and you could not blame them, they were only sixteen. But hello! You’re not listening! I’m saying this is not going to work so let’s just go shopping instead, huh?’

‘Shut up. Now tell me what are the things you want in a man,’ she asked.

‘Oh, you know, the usual: good looks, extreme intelligence, well read, loves art, understands …’ I started on my list.

Aditi cut me short, ‘Boring! Boring! Boring! Are you looking for someone our age or your dad’s friend who is a seventy-year-old professor? Let’s do this again. I’ll make the list this time. First of all, he has to be good in bed, handsome, rich …’

I was about to protest when the bearer came over and smiled down at Aditi, asking what more could he bring her, and she flirted back for a bit. Despite her bad skin, she always had an effect on men. I guess that’s why all forty-two of them looked beyond her face and down to her cleavage, which, I might also add, was fabulous.

Plus Aditi always had plans. She never sat around wallowing in self-pity, like I did. I suppose, because of her cheerful attitude, her count was as high as it was and mine zero.

‘First of all,’ she started, after the waiter had left, ‘we need to get your hair straightened or coloured or something that makes it less blah.’

‘Thanks,’ I added sarcastically. I was now stuffing my face with jam droplets that were in the flavours of raspberry and blueberry mini pastries. Pure heaven! She continued pointing her pen at me, ‘Nobody likes to screw a frizzy-haired chick. A new hairstyle is what you need. Then we need to get a better wardrobe. Something more revealing. All these kurtas make you look too intellectual.’ Here, she looked me up and down and frowned disdainfully at my attire.

‘But I am!’ I protested. I thought I had done okay with a long, pink kurta and jeans and some lovely accessories, but Aditi didn’t seem to approve.

‘Yes, honey, but men don’t see intellectual. They see cleavage! Men need something for their imagination. And you becoming a borderline nun doesn’t help.’

The stress was making me reach for another chocolate tart and I silently nodded my head, going along with the idea until a thought struck me, ‘How much is this going to cost? It seems like my bank balance is depleting already. Don’t you remember I was broke a few weeks ago? I thought we could just buy a nice black dress and I could laid!’

‘You can’t get something if you don’t sacrifice something in return,’ Aditi said authoritatively, as if she was a guru giving advice to a disciple.

‘Why can’t I just work on my personality? It’s a lot cheaper and I have heard that men really dig women with a sense of humour. Can’t I learn some new jokes or something? Here’s one,’ I immediately started before she could butt in, ‘What is the thinnest book in the world?’ I waited for the standard two seconds to reply, ‘What Men Know About Women!’ And I grinned at my own stupid joke.

Aditi looked at me as if I was an alien. ‘Ya. That went very far, didn’t it? Leave this to me. And don’t be cheap. You won’t regret it … And please stop eating these calorific things! Men don’t like fat women.’

‘You’re no fun,’ I grumbled while picking up my bag and following Aditi out of the bakery.

So started my Mission. Mission De-virginization.

We left the patisserie and headed to the parlour to get a new look.

At the parlour, we flipped through some magazines and argued on what would look good on me. Then we argued with the stylist on what he should do. Then we argued about how much it would cost, then we argued some more on whether we should order lunch since this was going to take the entire day. Mostly it was Aditi arguing with herself on what would look good on me while I kept shut and went along with whatever she said. By the end of it, her arguing had given me a headache.

But being a determined woman, I was ready to go the whole hog with this project and soon enough, I was in the zone of washing, drying, ironing, colouring, washing, and it went on.

Aditi got a phone call from her boyfriend, or whom she called the ‘flavour of the month’. She went off to chat with him while I sat and flipped through some more magazines in an awkward, ‘don’t move your head’ position. A woman came and sat next to me. Just then my cell phone fell on the floor and very sheepishly I requested her, ‘Please can you pick up my cell phone. I don’t think I’m allowed to move with this cardboard stuck to my hair.’

She smiled and picked it up.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Is this your first time?’

I looked at her strangely.

‘Getting your hair done, I mean?’ she said, clarifying.

‘Oh yes!’ I beamed, ready to give her the dirty details. ‘I’ve had straight but frizzy hair all my life. I guess I’ve never maintained it too well. All those split ends and what not,’ I smiled and continued, ‘I just wanted a change. Actually my friend thought I needed a change since it was getting me nowhere in life!’

The woman laughed, ‘I know what you mean. I got my hair straightened some four times before I realized I was just happy with myself and didn’t care about the men.’

How did she know it was about a man? But then I thought she had entered into a personal space and my shyness took over. I wasn’t too comfortable talking to or about men. So I nodded but kept quiet and went back to flipping through my magazine. I also wasn’t one of those people who could chat up with anyone and everyone. If it was for work, my other, ‘business’, personality came out and I could go on, but on a personal level, I was a timid sheep.

The lady caught on. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I think you’ll look lovely. If a change is what you need, then by all means go for it. But remember, no man is ever worth it.’

She dipped into her purse and took out her card and reached over to give it to me. ‘Here’s my card. Call me if you want to show me your new look!’ Then she left, joining her friend who had just finished a pedicure.

I looked at the card. It said:

Deepa M.

TV & Film Director.

I had been sitting next to a film director and I didn’t even know it! What I also didn’t know then was that this card was going to save my life when I least expected it.

Before I had a chance to think over the whole thing, Aditi came back. ‘Loser!’ she almost barked on her phone and then plonked herself on the seat next to mine.

‘What happened?’ I asked, deciding not to tell her about my encounter and instead focusing on her. In any case, Aditi was so self-obsessed that if the topic didn’t go back to her in someway, she would run out of conversation.

‘I had to dump this guy,’ she said nonchalantly. ‘And he was being such a pain and a cling on—like most men are. I mean, why can’t they ever get a hint?’

‘Why did you dump him?’ I asked.

‘Because a way to a woman’s heart is directly proportional to a man’s …’

‘Stop!’ I put my hands over my ears and shook my head in disgust. Trust Aditi to have dumped a man for the ‘smallest’ of reasons. For me, dumping was out of the question. I believed I would fall in love just once and marry him, not necessarily in that order.

Aditi was a ‘man magnate’, attracting men within the first five minutes. I needed to have an intellectual conversation with a man. I needed him to enlighten me, inspire me, teach me! He needed to be interested in learning, growing, and have a thirst for knowledge in art and travel. All Aditi wanted was a six pack. And that’s why she could have as many men as she wanted, whereas I, being picky and choosy, had none.

After four and a half hours of sitting to get my hair done, I finally swivelled around in my chair to look at the new me. I did look different. Lighter. Shinier. Glossier. Broke-er!

It had also made me a pauper.

Aditi loved it. She thought it was a glam look that would make film stars envious. Everything for her was comparable with films. She decided to take me shopping, but I said I had a huge crick in my shoulder from sitting still in a chair for hours and was going home. In any case, I had blown way too much money in one month to go shopping. So I went home and stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself for a long time. I started liking the new look. I felt confident. Thinner even! Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. I was ready to go out and meet some new men! The new me was going to wow them. All I had to do was change my philosophy and I would be de-virginized. The mission was on its way!

It is said that when you ask the Universe for something, you generally get it. But you’ve got to be careful about the details, because most of the time, it can just belt out any old trash. So even though my heart said, ‘give men a shot’, most of the men that came my way made me think, ‘just shoot him’!

For example, there was this banquet manager at a posh hotel whom I used to meet quite often, since most of our international conferences were held there. He would discuss the arrangements of food, beverage, layout of chairs and stage with me. Not once did he try to ask me to have lunch with him. Then, just as I told the Universe I was ready, he asked me out to lunch. We were going through the layout when he casually dropped it, ‘Do you want to continue this over lunch?’ And I said, ‘Okay,’ even more casually. But honestly, I was quite excited! I noticed him a little better. Brown eyes, rugged jawline, tall, bespectacled, bony fingers, and a very impish smile. All in all—a cute package! I could see myself liking him. We had, in fact, shared a lot of conferences together and we knew what we both thought about the flower arrangement and menus. See, I needed to feel that I had something in common with a guy. Otherwise I could never go out with him. I had to believe that somewhere we connected, even if it was over something small.

So we went to the coffee shop, where we had a lovely lunch and went through the plans for the conference. After that, he asked me out for a drink, but I said I would be too busy with work over the next couple of days. Then I hinted that I was always free for breakfast. He caught on and asked what time would I be here in the mornings. I said eight because the conference would start by ten. So he said he would see me the next day for breakfast at eight. I believed that my romance had begun. Before I could call Aditi and tell her she need not bother about finding a man for me, I figured that I should go on at least one date first.

When I reached the lobby the next day, he was nowhere to be found. So I called him up in his room.

‘Hello,’ he spoke in a sleepy voice. I could make out that he had not woken up.

‘Hi. Did I wake you up?’ I asked tentatively, not knowing what to say.

‘Ya. I’m so sorry. Let’s catch up tomorrow, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I said, a bit disappointed, and hung up. If he had
really
been interested, he would have been here. I didn’t want to be a Betty in someone’s life. I wanted to be a Veronica. So I went off grumpily to the conference room, and just as I got into the lift, I saw him. He was there holding a daisy.

‘A rose is too corny,’ he said, as he gave me the flower. I smiled and walked with him to an empty banquet room where a single table had been set for us. We sat down and then the most unexpected romantic surprise awaited me. A host of bearers entered with every form of food that was available for breakfast and dessert from all the restaurants. It was absolutely lovely and I gorged out. My dietician would have killed me but she would have understood that it was for gaining the love of a man!

I looked at him and told him, ‘You know I’m most happy when I’m fully fed.’